Shanish Ramakrishnan

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Shanish Ramakrishnan Social Profile

We should forget about small efficiencies, say about 97% of the time: premature optimization is the root of all evil.

  • Phone Number *** - **** 4609
  • E-Mailbeautifulcat112***@******.***
  • Birthday03 July 1984
  • Education -
  • Address Rue Baraban No: 4609
  • CityBülach
  • CountrySwitzerland

Shanish Ramakrishnan Live Statistics

Shanish Ramakrishnan have a 460 following and 345 followers. Shanish Ramakrishnan's world rankings is 725. This page is based on Shanish Ramakrishnan's online data & informations. You can find information birth date, place of residence, phone number, address and social media accounts on Shanish Ramakrishnan's page.

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Shanish Ramakrishnan's Life Motto

People are so constituted that everybody would rather undertake what they see others do, whether they have an aptitude for it or not. ..

About shanish ramakrishnan

Shanish Ramakrishnan living Rue Baraban No: 4609 Bülach Switzerland

What phantom is this that appears
Through the purple mist of the years,
Itself but a mist like these?
A woman of cloud and of fire;
It is she; it is Helen of Tyre,
The town in the midst of the seas.

O Tyre! in thy crowded streets
The phantom appears and retreats,
And the Israelites that sell
Thy lilies and lions of brass,
Look up as they see her pass,
And murmur "Jezebel!"

Then another phantom is seen
At her side, in a gray gabardine,
With beard that floats to his waist;
It is Simon Magus, the Seer;
He speaks, and she pauses to hear
The words he utters in haste.

He says: "From this evil fame,
From this life of sorrow and shame,
I will lift thee and make thee mine;
Thou hast been Queen Candace,
And Helen of Troy, and shalt be
The Intelligence Divine!"

Oh, sweet as the breath of morn,
To the fallen and forlorn
Are whispered words of praise;
For the famished heart believes
The falsehood that tempts and deceives,
And the promise that betrays.

So she follows from land to land
The wizard's beckoning hand,
As a leaf is blown by the gust,
Till she vanishes into night.
O reader, stoop down and write
With thy finger in the dust.

O town in the midst of the seas,
With thy rafts of cedar trees,
Thy merchandise and thy ships,
Thou, too, art become as naught,
A phantom, a shadow, a thought,
A name upon men's lips.